


the one with violets in her lap

by Chesra



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-29 16:33:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chesra/pseuds/Chesra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ymir has never known what's it like to miss someone. [spoilers for shingeki no kyojin chapter 50]</p>
            </blockquote>





	the one with violets in her lap

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from a translation of Sappho's fragments because this fic is inspired by this [tumblr post](http://sedimentary-hurricanes.tumblr.com/post/60160381859/bisexual-women-and-lesbians-would-give-violets-to) and the frantic desire to write yumikuri after chapter 50. THAT CHAPTER RIPPED MY HEART OUT. :(

\--

 

She's plucking flowers from the field, carefully breaking their stems in one swift move. Ymir watches her from the corner of her eye, annoyed at her task; annoyed that she isn't looking back at her.

 

"Christaaaaa," she whines. Christa tosses her head back - Ymir catches the barest glimpse of a smile - but doesn't spare even a tiny glance in Ymir's direction. Ymir sighs and flops back on the checkered picnic blanket spread, disgruntled.

 

The sky is vivid blue; the color straight out of a church painting. The sun is high up but thankfully covered by the clouds, so the heat isn't unbearable. Ymir squints up at the sky. She's never really stared at it like this before.

 

"I think I'm dreaming," she says out loud. When Christa doesn't answer back, Ymir knows it to be true.

 

\--

 

They don't head back to the titan village. They can't return like this, having failed in their mission as well as lost one of their own. They huddle on the upper branches of a large tree in a forest, safe from wandering titans. Bertolt's eyes are red from crying. Reiner hasn't said a word. Ymir can't bear to look at either one of them.

 

"We have to get Annie back," Bertolt finally says. There's a steely determination in his tone mingled with reckless desperation - _we succeed at this or die trying_. Bertolt's not one to give orders, but Reiner nods his head in agreement, ever the faithful warrior. Something about it makes Ymir sick; this hopeless dependency on each other. but then Ymir has no right to judge them for that, when she has sacrificed everything for Christa - no, Historia.

 

It's still strange to call her that, even though Ymir has known for a long time who she really is. She has so many things she wants to ask Historia - why Christa? Why that name? Did she really fancy herself as some chosen one; as some goddess of mercy? The nerve of that girl, really. For all her self-sacrifice she's just as vain as any of them.

 

Ymir smiles to herself. she likes that part of Historia, really. It makes her human; not the untouchable divine being everyone makes her out to be. Ymir likes the cracks, the scars. The human girl with the wide eyes and a dark past.

 

After all, they're alike.

 

\--

 

There's a fistful of purple flowers on Christa's lap. "Violets," she says, as she absentmindedly plucks more from their stems. Soon the flowers are spilling all over the blanket, the purple in stark contrast with the red. Ymir brushes them off, sitting cross-legged as she watches Christa weave them together to form a circle.

 

"Do you know what it means to give violets to someone, Ymir?" Christa asks her. Ymir can't see her face.

 

"How the hell should I know?" she asks sourly. It's such a nice day, and all Christa wants to do is sit around and make stupid flower crowns. They should be out walking around. There are no titans here, after all.

 

Christa just shakes her head. "Oh Ymir," she says, in that tone that always makes Ymir feel mildly ashamed of herself. In turn, it just makes her more annoyed.

 

"Why are you even making those stupid things?" she demands, and she swipes the half-finished flower crown from Christa's hands, shaking the flowers loose. "Why won't you-" _look at me,_ she doesn't get to finish. because Christa turns to look at her straight in the eye and Ymir realizes - 

 

how long has it been since she's seen Christa's face?

 

\--

 

Ymir wakes up in a cold sweat. It's the same damn dream again. It's a step up from remembering the taste of humans as she roamed outside the walls, so Ymir won't complain, but they're frustrating. It's the worst kind of thing to experience right now, what with the constant travel, and only Reiner and Bertolt for company. Those two barely even talk to her; at night they huddle close, whispering whatever plan they have to each other. Ymir doesn't care. As long as Eren stays within those walls to protect Christa then it's fine. Annie is their only target, after all.

 

They've been traveling pretty fast in the direction of the walls, but once they manage to get back inside, Ymir has no idea how they'll proceed. None of them is Armin, after all. Infiltrating a highly protected area - surely Annie is being guarded day and night - is going to be difficult. Plus the military police must have been alerted about their identities by now -  they lost several days already because they all had to recover their strength with rest. Occasionally they had to engage in a fight with titans. They've spent so much time outside the walls. The days have all blurred in Ymir's head, as has everything else.

 

She's afraid of forgetting Christa, of not remembering what she looks like. What are the color of her eyes again? Ymir has spent so much time looking at her from a safe distance. Now that she thinks back, she's never even had the chance to stare at Christa, face-to-face, for as long as she likes.

 

Is this what it's like to miss someone?

 

\--

 

She's lying down on Christa's lap with her eyes closed. When she opens them, Christa's looking down at her, her mouth curved into a smile. Ymir reaches up to brush away the blonde strands blocking her view of Christa's face.

 

"Why are you smiling at me?" she murmurs.

 

Christa laughs. "I'm happy," she replies. "Aren't you?"

 

Ymir sits up and pinches her cheeks. "You should smile wider, if you're really happy," she teases. Christa swats her hands away, scowling.

 

This is the girl Ymir loves; this stupid, reckless, terrifying girl. How could Ymir ever let her go? It's a moment of sentimentality that's rare to Ymir, but she indulges in it nevertheless. She puts an arm over Christa's shoulder, and Christa willingly rests her head on Ymir's shoulder. For a few minutes they stay there, breathing. Safe. Together.

 

For once Ymir hopes she won't wake up.

 

"I never got to finish my flower crowns," Christa says out of nowhere, lifting her head from Ymir's shoulder.

 

Ymir snorts. "Good. I'm not going to wear one, anyway."

 

Christa gets her "oh, Ymir" face. Then her expression turns devious. "So you won't wear them, huh," she says. Ymir has a bad feeling about this. "Historia-" she says, raising her hand reflexively -

 

Christa scoops up the violets scattered all over their blanket, and then releases them over Ymir's head. Ymir's vision is suddenly obscured by a flurry of purple flowers. Through the curtain of falling violets Ymir can see Christa's grin, so ridiculously wide that it would confuse anyone who's only known her as a demure, smiling portrait of a goddess.

 

Ymir brushes off the flowers that got stuck on her hair, muttering curses underneath her breath. Christa leans in then, her mouth close to Ymir's. Her breath is warm. Ymir, on the other hand, has forgotten how to.

 

The sudden proximity allows Ymir to take note of Christa's eyes, which are a stunning blue-gray. How could it have slipped her mind? It's not the shocking bright blue of Armin's; nor is it the same shade of Annie's cold ones. No, Christa's eyes are dull; no poet would ever write about them, but to Ymir they're the prettiest shade of blue of all. Ymir would have gladly lost herself in those eyes, but Christa's lips start to move. "I forgive you," she whispers, one hand reaching out to touch Ymir's cheek.

 

Ymir stares at her. "What?"

 

Christa just smiles, and instantly Ymir remembers the last thing she said to Christa. _I'm sorry._ Of course Christa would forgive her, goddess of fucking mercy that she is. Ymir sighs and shakes her head, choosing to bury her hands in Christa's soft hair instead.

 

"One day," she says, "I'll-"

 

She doesn't get to finish her sentence. Reiner shakes her awake. "We're here," he says. Ymir looks up to see Wall Rose towering over them, about fifty feet away.

 

Ymir stands up and stretches, the memory of the dream quickly slipping away from her mind's grasp. "Okay," she says. "What's the plan?"

 


End file.
